


Coursing Through Our Bodies 'Til We're Warm

by VelocityKilljoy



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, This is like 100 percent fluff im warning you now, it's just the bois being sweet and having a good time, there are pancakes, they get to smile for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelocityKilljoy/pseuds/VelocityKilljoy
Summary: Rich wakes up, having survived another night of drinking way too much, with someone in his bed.--Just some fluff to get everyone through quarantine...
Relationships: Rich Goranski/Michael Mell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Coursing Through Our Bodies 'Til We're Warm

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because everything is so stressful right now and I though we could all do with something lighthearted and sweet.
> 
> The title is taken from Sleeping With A Friend by Neon Trees. Go listen to it if you want :)

Waking up the next morning was always the worst part of a night out. So, when Rich felt himself drifting back into consciousness, it was a huge relief to open his eyes and see his own room. It was all too common for him to wake up somewhere else, and the walk of shame was the absolute worst thing he could possibly do with a hangover.

Hooray, he survived another night of getting absolutely hammered! Well, his head was killing him, so maybe it wasn’t an absolute win.

The room was warm, curtains still open from the day before and letting sunlight stream in, and Rich’s brain was sleep-addled enough that it took a moment to realise that the other reason it was warm was because there was someone else in his bed. A guy, by the looks of the arm around his waist and the feel of the chest pressed against his back, and Rich was perfectly content to just let him stay there for however long he wanted. Besides, it was a Sunday and he had nowhere else to be. Rich closed his eyes and was asleep again almost instantly.

\--

Rich wasn’t one to hide his sexuality or repress his sex drive. Ever since his dating pool had doubled way back in junior year, he made sure he made the most of it. He’d had more one-night stands than he could remember, especially in college, along with a stream of relationships that always seemed to end in empty promises to stay friends. That was the problem, though: he threw himself into relationships so quickly that he got whiplash and a few months would see them through once they got out of the honeymoon phase. He had lost count of how many times a break-up ended in the words ‘we just don’t have a lot in common’.

It was because no one could quite get him. There was no way he could explain his remnant traumas from high school without sounding out of his mind and, even though he was rarely ever the one to end things, he could always tell when his boyfriend or girlfriend was starting to get to the end of their tether with him and his behaviour. Not one of them knew how to get him to stop crying in the night. Not one of them knew how to calm him down at a party, when he was sure there was smoke pouring into the room from under the door and the heat became unbearable. After a while, he stopped seeing people. It wasn’t worth it.

Sometimes it was easier not to have someone, or to just have someone for the night. That way they wouldn’t have to understand but he could still feel the warmth of arms around him. So that’s what he had taken to, even if he had to forego the gentleness of emotional intimacy for the foreseeable future.

\--

There was no way of telling how much later it was when Rich was woken up for the second time. He hadn’t looked at a clock before and he was no good at judging based on the light. All he knew was why he was awake: his one-night stand was getting up.

There was shuffling behind him and the weight of the arm lifted from his body. He felt the mattress shift as the body beside him rose. More shuffling, the sound of something small scraping against the bed-side table – Rich seemed to remember a pair of glasses – and a yawn. Rich felt the weight of the man disappear entirely from the bed and heard the footsteps on the floor. While the temptation was always there to check out who he’d gotten with – he was curious as ever – he also knew how awkward the morning-after conversations could get and, honestly, he was doing the guy a favour by pretending to still be asleep. A few seconds of almost silence passed and then –

“Shit!” the guy hissed quietly. Rich stayed still, trying to get back to sleep but his curiosity was keeping him up. Then there was a small laugh, one that sounded… fond? Affectionate? Whatever emotion it was supposed to be displaying, Rich could feel the warmth in it, and there was a little tug in his heart. Jeez, had it really been that long since he’d been in a relationship? He was getting sappy over a hook-up! But when a hand ghosted over his hair, brushing it back and out of his face, he couldn’t help but yearn. “Of course.”

Those last words were cryptic, and Rich knew he’d usually mull over them but, for now, he was too comfortable, even as he heard his door open and footsteps trailing away into silence.

That was until about fifteen minutes later, when the smell of food – pancakes, if Rich was guessing correctly – crept into his room. He was up in two seconds flat, searching for acceptable clothes, because this guy was making breakfast and Rich couldn’t be more excited. On his way out, having chucked on a pair of sweatpants and a flannel shirt, he noticed a jacket hanging on the back of his chair. It was red denim, something Rich didn’t even know they made, and there were cute little patches on the arms. Rich smiled and picked the jacket up, slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way out to the kitchen, trying to fight the melancholy seeping in at the familiarity of seeing pac-man against red fabric. The past was the past, and it wasn’t the time to overthink the chances he never took.

He was as quiet as possible, trying to avoid being seen as he stopped off by the bathroom to look in the mirror. His reflection, as usual, tore into his insecurities but he tried his best to ignore the simmering self-hatred in his gut. If this guy thought his scars were really that ugly, they wouldn’t have slept together. End of story. But he really did need to fix his hair. And his eyebags were ridiculous. And-

No. He was fine. This was the real Rich Goranski and whoever was in his apartment could deal with whatever that meant. Right now, self-consciousness could wait. There were pancakes calling his name, and who was he to ignore them?

He wandered out of the bathroom and into the living room, eyes instantly locking onto the figure in the kitchen area across the room. Even though the guy was facing away, leaning over the stove, Rich still felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He had black hair, still messed up from the night before, and the shirt t-shirt he wore hung off one shoulder, revealing a soft expanse of tan skin. As Rich approached, he could hear the quiet hum of a tune he didn’t recognise but he did recognise the way this guy nodded his head to the beat, the subtle but present swing of his hips that had haunted Rich’s dreams all the way through senior year. The memory was practically tangible, that splash of red trailing through the dull hall, footsteps in time with a secret beat that was hidden behind those huge white headphones. The mannerisms were all there. Rich could never forget.

There were a million thoughts flicking through his head, panic alarms blaring as his fight or flight instincts tried to take over his body. But this was Michael. Michael Mell, who didn’t seem angry or upset or anything other than content as he added more pancakes to the growing stack beside him, and that seemed to soothe the anxious voice in Rich’s head. So, he did the only thing he could think to do.

Quietly tossing the jacket over the back of a chair, he shuffled towards Michael almost silently. When he finally reached him, he took one final deep breath and tentatively wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder. For a second, Michael froze but, before the sinking feeling in Rich’s stomach settled, relaxed into Rich’s grip, a fleeting laugh escaping his lips.

“Hey there, stranger.” Michael’s voice was as it always had been, low and warm, and Rich could drown in it. He hummed into the crook of Michael’s neck.

“I missed you.”

A few minutes passed of them standing together before Michael was done. Rich reluctantly pulled away, but Michael caught his wrist, stopping him, and gently pushed him against the counter. A moment passed of Rich looking into Michael’s eyes, studying the way that the light made them glow like he was looking at sunlight though honey. Michael planted his arms either side of Rich on the counter and leant down, breath ghosting over Rich’s lips.

“Is this a dream?” Michael’s voice was barely above a whisper. Rich shook his head, eyes darting down to Michael’s lips, centimetres from his own, and they mutually closed the gap. The kiss was chaste, slow, and short, and when Michael pulled away, Rich felt himself helplessly following. Michael laughed sweetly and swooped down to peck Rich’s lips again before stepping back and grabbing the two plates still on the side.

They ate in comfortable silence, knocking knees under the table. Everything was hazy, the hard edges of life blurring into softness, and Rich knew what Michael meant. It felt like a dream, like it was too good to be true, but somehow he knew it was real.

“You know, it’s weird,” Michael began, gaze settling on Rich. “Every time we used to go clubbing together, I would hope that I’d drink enough to tell you how I felt, and it never worked. Then, the one time I go out now, I wake up in your bed.”

Rich grinned.

“You know, if you’d just said that to my face, like, three years ago, you’d definitely have gotten your way.”

“No shit?”

“I’ve been crazy about you since the first time you visited me in hospital after the fire.”

Michael reached across the table and wiped a smear of maple syrup off Rich’s lip. His hand lingered and Rich leant into the touch.

“Then I guess we have quite a bit of catching up to do. Mind if I stick around for a bit?”

Yeah, Rich could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope y'all enjoyed i <3  
> Comments and kudos are always welcome and very much appreciated.


End file.
